The Eyes That Watch Us
by TheWondersOfWords
Summary: A case left unsolved. A serial killer still on the loose. A detective who takes this as a challenge. A blogger/army-doctor who is dragged along. A teenage girl who seems to just be a magnet for trouble. There are deaths and there are clues, but in the end, what's left are the eyes that watch us. Noooo slash. First fic. T for violence later on. On hiatus for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**Hello there and thank you for opening the link to this fic. Be it by complete accident or perhaps, for some reason, the idea intrigued you. Whatever the reason, I am glad my ideas are getting seen. I plan to update this story at least once a week and so do follow it to catch the update if you would like to read on. And if you would not like to read on, it would be very useful to know why and I very much encourage constructive criticism. On the other hand, if you like my ridiculous little dreams that end up as words on your screen, then do pop me a review and tell me your thoughts and queries. **

**OH. And I don't own BBC Sherlock. But if you had not already made that deduction then I am afraid, dear reader, that you have an IQ lower than Anderson's. **

**That's it from me. I hope you enjoy the first chapter!**

The Diary of Ella Rose ~ 2013

January 17th

1pm

Dear diary,

It's been a week now. One whole week and I still haven't shed a single tear. I don't actually feel anything. Not in the sense that I'm feeling numb or that it 'hasn't quite sunk in' or whatever. I am just genuinely indifferent. That sounds really bad, doesn't it? I mean, she was my mother, after all. I should feel SOMETHING. Even if it was anger or regret or even a relief of some kind. But... No. We were never close and I had always known that we never would be. Which is weird, I suppose, because my sister and her were inseparable. But Jess is very different to me. She is so much more empathic. We're kind of like opposites really. She, the nurturing, selfless older sister. And then there's me, the straight thinking, logical minded one. I see things in such a different light to other people. Especially people my age. My view on the world is more mature than your average sixteen year old. To me, the world is a puzzle and the people are merely pieces. Some pieces fit easier than others, my sister being one of them. My mother, however, never did seem to fit into the picture I was trying to form. If I had to describe it, I suppose that I would say it's like when you're making a jigsaw and there's a piece from another set in the box. My mother was that piece. And now that she is gone, the jigsaw should be easier to make.

It's the funeral tomorrow. I don't see any point in going. I'm not grieving and that's what funerals are for. To say your goodbyes. Well, I said my goodbyes to that woman when she shipped me off to bloody boarding school in the country! Hmmm. Going to the funeral would get me out of a day at school surrounded by idiots... And it would mean that I get to see Leeds again. The city over the countryside ANY day... No. I shouldn't use it as an excuse like that. I may not have gotten on well with her but that is no reason to be disrespectful.

9pm

Just got off the phone with Jess. She's still staying in mother's old house. Sentimental reasons, I suppose. I wouldn't stay there again if you paid me. It always creeped me out, that place. Still not sure why. Anyway, being the responsible big sister that she is, Jess tried to convince me to go to the funeral with her tomorrow. And... I think I've given in. Not because of mother but rather because of my sister. She needs me there. I may not be grieving but she is and she needs a hand to hold. As different as we may be, I love that girl. And so, I shall go with her tomorrow. Moral support. I'll obviously have to get permission from the school blah blah blah but Jess can drive so they won't have to take me, at least. Can't say it's something that I'm exactly looking forward to. Oh well.

Goodnight, diary.

. . .

"Leeds?"

John Watson had only just settled down in his armchair in 221B Baker Street after (yet again) going out to buy the shopping and ALREADY his flatmate (who just so happened to be the world's only consulting detective) had started going on about his next potential case.

It was still so odd for John to be hearing his best friend getting so excited about murder, and other criminal activities of the like, again. Two months had passed since Sherlock had come back into his life. Two months. And it still felt like a dream. It was hard for him. The doctor had only just managed to start moving on from the death of his flatmate when suddenly BAMB. His favourite/least favourite curly haired git was back. Two months now and Sherlock had started acting like the fall had never happened. He never mentioned it. Not once. It was as if it were all a dream. A nightmare that had lasted for three long years.

"Yes, John. Leeds. There's something... Rather interesting there. The train leaves at noon. Grab your coat."

Whilst John had been out on his little trip to the supermarket, the detective had been scouring through the internet, desperately looking for anything that may catch his eye. There were a couple of interesting murders and disappearances but none of them seemed to hold Sherlock's attention for very long. Except one. A case that had been cold for sixteen years. Left unsolved. Labelled 'unsolvable'. Just the word 'unsolvable' simply SCREAMED challenge to Holmes and he quickly found himself researching the case further.

He managed to hack into the police database to find forensics photographs and personal DI reports. They were scanned and filed away in the detective's brain swiftly.

A serial killer in Leeds. Male, going by reliable statics. A killer whom called himself 'Laius'. A killer of young women between the ages of sixteen and thirty. His killings were drawn out over seven weeks. Twenty eight women had been killed by his hand. Identified by a religious cross necklace, with the name 'Laius' engraved into it, he would always leave hanging around the victims cut throat. His killing pattern was irregular but any perceptive person could see that he carefully thought out each death. Who to kill and when to do it and where to stage it and where to hide afterwards. It kept going and going and going and it seemed like he would never be found. It seemed like he was just going to carry on killing. But he didn't. January 4th 1996. That was when this so called 'Laius' took his last victim. Then he vanished. There were no more killings and the police force gave up.

Of course, they would, wouldn't they? Idiots. Sherlock's interest had been piqued by this 'unsolvable' case. There were so many strings that were unattached. The biggest question that he wanted to know the answer to was WHY did he stop killing? Where did he go? Most people would probably assume that perhaps he had fled, in fear of discovery. Sherlock, however, knew better than that. This was a man who was wrapped in a blanket of sentimentality. Whatever his psychotic reason for killing these young woman, the way in which it was carried out was with the upmost care and caution. With the upmost /sentiment/. He doubted that such a sentimental man would flee from his home and his work and his life 'just in case' of capture. No, Sherlock was almost absolutely certain that this killer was still in the city of Leeds. And he was determined to find him. Not for the moral reasons that most people would like to assume, of course. He wasn't doing this for the justice of those poor young girls. Sherlock Holmes did not feel things that way. He was doing this because he had a complete and utter addiction to knowledge. It was a thirst that completely consumed him. A thirst that was consuming him right at that moment, in fact, as he yearned to learn more about this unreachable killer with the Greek alias.

John was currently arguing with the detective but he really failed to care. His flatmate was of the opinion that a case that had been cold for sixteen years was something that was not worth the trip all the way up to Leeds. But arguing with Sherlock Holmes was rather pointless as he always won, especially if it was about a case that particularly intrigued him like the Laius Serial Killings.

And so, at noon on the dot, the two men arrived at the station to await the long train journey to the city of Leeds.

. . .

"I look like an absolute idiot."

Ella was stood in front of the mirror in her shared dormitory. All of the other pupils were in their usual lessons whilst she stood, fiddling with the hem of her short, black dress. Any person could tell just from looking at the girl that she was not the sort to wear dresses or skirts. Fashion mattered very little to her and she cared more about comfort than anything else. However, this was a formal occasion and she was required to look smart. The young girl had practically torn her wardrobe apart looking for something that was black and could qualify as 'smart'. Eventually, she had found the dress that she was now wearing.

It was quite a gorgeous dress at that. Not that Ella noticed. She thought that it made her look idiotic and girly and it made her feel uncomfortable. But really, it was a wonder that she could not see the beauty that was currently scowling back at her in the reflection. The curves of the dress fit her slim frame just perfectly and the silky, raven black material flowed out at the bottom, just above her knees. The colour of the whole outfit made Ella's porcelain skin almost appear to glow in the bright overhead light. Her usually tied back brown locks were cascading down her back, stopping at the black ribbon tied around her waist.

As Ella's dark blue eyes stared at the image in front of her, she saw a completely different person. She saw a young woman. Not the sixteen year old girl who would slip on a pair of joggers and a vest top before sneaking around the school at the first chance she got. This was not the girl who would hide in the seemingly ancient secret passageways of the old boarding school, not caring about any bugs or spiders or rodents that she may come across. She could not even catch a glimpse of that girl in the mirror. And suddenly she found that she couldn't even look anymore. It was too unnerving.

Walking away from the young woman in the mirror, Ella made a quick glance at her watch. It was 11:30am. The funeral was at one and there was STILL no sign of her sister. They had talked last night on the phone about arrangements and it was all sorted. Jessica would drive down and pick her up at 11:15am at the LATEST.

The brunette made a frustrated huffing sound and threw herself onto the nearest bed. If her sister took any longer, she would have to make her own way to Leeds by cab or something like that. She had the money to do that, after all. Technically, she had signed out of school as well so they wouldn't even notice if she just left on her own.

She started pacing around the room.

And she waited. Waited. Waited.

It was 11:50am when she finally gave up, sending her older, supposedly more responsible, sister an angrily worded text before leaving the school grounds and calling up a taxi company.

Ella tapped her shiny black shoes on the edge of the pavement, impatiently awaiting the short cab journey to the city of Leeds.

**Ahhhh, so clearly their paths are destined to cross somewhere along the line. Any guesses where, dear readers? Mmmm? Suggestions and ideas are welcome in the reviews too, by the way. Um, kudos to you for reading this little slice of my story and I really hoped it left you wondering what might happen... **

**OH. If any of you are wondering what Ella looks like, there is a link in my bio. Thanks again! x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, reader. I didn't get any reviews from the first chapter so I didn't really know whether you enjoyed it or not? Or whether you want more? Because really, as much as I enjoy writing this, there is not much point if you do not enjoy reading it too. XD So, I do hope you enjoy reading this one and please do pop me a review, it would make my day. Thanks. X**

**. . .**

Ella was standing outside the church. The funeral had finished hours ago and she did not really pay attention throughout the whole thing. All that kept going through her mind was... 'Where is Jessica?'

Her sister had failed to turn up at the school and now at the church and Ella was starting to get a sick feeling of worry in the pit of her stomach. The entire Rose family had a habit of running away from things that were painful. Whoever the girls' father was, he had done it. Their mother had done it when she sent Ella off to boarding school. And now Jess? It didn't make any sense. She had been so very insistent that they BOTH attend their mother's funeral. How could she say the things that she did and then just simply not turn up because it was too 'painful'?

Painful. Surely it could not be as painful for Ella's sister as it was for Ella herself. Although her mother's death did not sway her, just looking upon her again brought back the most terrible memories. There were memories of being beaten and yelled at and kicked out of the house. Burned on the arm with the nub of a cigarette. All the times that her mother had lost her temper with her, they all came flooding back in that moment. And, as much as she tried not to let it show, these memories were painful. They hurt. Yet, she had to endure it alone because her big sister was not there to comfort her.

Ella felt angry now because how DARE she leave her on her own throughout this?! Leaning against the church wall, she pulled out her phone with a flourish and dialled Jessica's number for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. It rung and it rung and it rung and... through to answer phone again. It took every bit of restraint within her to not throw the damn phone at the wall.

Another question had started to form in her mind now. What next? She could hardly go back to school when she still had the task of punching her lovely big sister in the nose to complete, could she? But of course, to find said sister would mean returning to the one place she had vowed never to enter again. Her mother's house. The house in which she had spent her childhood, if you could even call it a childhood. There were memories buried deep within the walls of that building that she never wished to resurface. But it was the last place that her sister was known to be at and therefore it was a place that would be necessary to go to in order to find her and... punch her in the nose. So, return she must. There was enough money in her small, black purse for a trip there and then a trip back to school, surely...

. . .

John Watson tapped his fingers against the side of his coffee mug. He and his flatmate had been sat at this cafe for HOURS. Once again, the doctor thanked his lucky stars that he had not only remembered to bring his laptop with him from London but also that this tiny cafe had free wifi. Otherwise, he was sure that he may have either withered away with boredom or have fallen asleep in his coffee. Sherlock, however, seemed not to notice the time that passed. He was sat opposite his friend, fingers steepled underneath his chin, eyes glazed over in thought. Any passerby would assume that he was in some kind of trance state but John knew better. John knew that he was in his... bloody mind palace, searching through all that he had on this cold serial murderer case.

An exasperated sigh left his lips as he turned his attention from the curly-haired detective and back to the computer screen. Just as he was about to begin typing again, a small voice came from right beside him.

"I... um. Sorry, would you mind an awful lot if I were to borrow your laptop for a few minutes?"

John turned his head to find a young girl standing there. She must have been in her late teens although he was not quite sure because she did look rather mature in that dress. In the couple of seconds it took for him to start pondering just how old she may actually be, his question was answered as she spoke up again.

"It's just that... I have some GCSE coursework that I REALLY need to research before school tomorrow but I... don't have a laptop of my own."

So, definitely late teens then. Couldn't be more than sixteen, in fact.

The girl smiled at John nervously as she tucked a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. He returned the smile with a very warm one of his own. With a nod, he closed the browser down and handed it to her.

"It's already connected to the wifi so you should be good to go. Just be careful with it, it's very dear to me."

He finished speaking with a friendly wink at which she grinned happily before rushing off to sit at a nearby table.

Humming slightly, John turned back to face his friend once more only to find him staring intensely at the teenager who was now typing away hurriedly on the laptop. The detective's eyes were narrowed in suspicion, thoughts very clearly racing through his head at top speed.

"Sherlock."

No answer.

"/Sherlock/."

The detective's attention snapped away from the girl and back to John. He was frowning, frustration etched on every feature of his face.

"She's lying, John."

The way he spoke the words made John double take. Sherlock was only ever like this when he felt he had a lead, when he felt that he was on to something. What did this matter? She was just a kid, for goodness sake! He shook his head, keeping his voice down to a low murmur.

"What are you talking about?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"It's obvious. SO obvious. Come ON John, surely even you can't miss this. I can see that perhaps you could take her twitchiness and shaky voice as apparent nerves. She was approaching a stranger and asking to use one of his possessions, after all. Nerves would fit. They /would/ fit if it weren't for the way she was chewing her lip. You see, that signals a very different kind of nerves. THAT points towards the nerves of a sneaky, little liar. She may as well have had 'Call my bluff, Mr Holmes!' written across her forehead, for goodness sake."

Sherlock finished with a flourish of his hands. The intense glare of his icy eyes were again focused on the girl. John, however, still didn't see what all the fuss was about. Okay, so maybe she had been lying about the coursework. Maybe she only wanted to use the laptop to talk to her... boyfriend or something like that. It was no big deal! Rolling his eyes, he spoke again with a slight chuckle.

"Kids will be kids, Sherlock. So what if she isn't doing schoolwork like she said? Does it really matter? It's not like she's plotting world domination, is it?"

With raised eyebrows, he waited for his flatmate to respond but he simply kept staring at the poor, oblivious girl.

"Sherlock!" He hissed through his teeth "Stop staring!"

Like a child who had just been scolded, the detective pouted and looked down at his untouched mug of coffee on the table. It was then that the young girl returned with the laptop in hand and a wild glint in her eye. Even John noticed it. There was something different in her expression. It was not so much nerves anymore. Excitement? No, not quite. Fear? No, not that either. Something in between the two. Her words came out in a complete rush. Clearly, she wanted to be somewhere.

"Thank you very much for letting me use this, sir. It's been SO helpful to have the internet on my side. Can't fail now."

Swiftly, she placed the laptop back on the table, in front of John before quickly beginning to walk away, shouting back over her shoulder.

"Thanks! Bye!"

And then, she was gone. Strange, strange girl. John simply looked on, watching her leave with a slight look of bemusement on his face. Sherlock, on the other hand, acted very quickly once the girl was out of sight. He snatched the laptop towards him and opened it, immediately searching the internet history. Ohhh, deleted. Clever, clever, clever. Or maybe... not so much as it clearly indicated towards his theory being positive. The girl was most certainly up to something. And as much as he wished to know what it was, he had nothing else to go on unless he decidedly followed the teenager through the city. He crossed that one off the list of ideas. John would not approve.

With that small interlude coming to an apparent dead end, Sherlock decided to take another look at the information about the case on the internet. He typed the first few letters in and then froze. It had already been searched before. In the suggestion box, there were the words 'Laius Serial Murders'. Yet, Holmes had definitely NOT done any research on this particular laptop before and John almost certainly had not either...which meant...

Sherlock was up and on his feet in a flash, shutting down the laptop and handing it to his friend.

"Come along, John. We have to go and find that girl."

**. . .**

**I'm really not too confident with this style of writing. Am I doing okay, because I have no idea? Reviews equal updates and virtual cookies!**


	3. Hiatus Notice

**HIATUS NOTICE**

Hello, followers of this story! I'm putting this particular fic on hold for the time being, just so that I can concentrate on 'Enigmatic Fangirl' (which you should really read because it's excited I'm excited) but I will come back to it afterwards. I just feel so bad leaving people waiting for an update for too long. So yes, I will get back to this fic but for now my concentration is on the other.

Just letting you know. THANKS FOR READING!

~Red~ xxx


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